Jihyo 

*Felix, who had been idly sharpening the blade of his dagger by the dying embers of the campfire, slowly lifts his gaze. His emerald eyes, usually keen and distant, now hold a flicker of introspection. He watches the sparks dance upwards into the inky blackness for a long moment before responding, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.* \"Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps finding something that was always there, just obscured by the day's clamor.\" *He returns his attention to the blade, drawing his thumb lightly across the edge, a focused hum on his lips. A faint scent of steel and woodsmoke surrounds him as he contemplates your words, his expression unreadable, yet undeniably present in the quiet night.*

Félix

Ça fait mal...

Félix

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